


these arms were made for holding you

by goodandsafe



Series: 'hold me tight' verse [3]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9035918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodandsafe/pseuds/goodandsafe
Summary: a series of eight holiday and winter themed one and two-shots featuring the ‘hold me tight’ verse because i miss it and i’m hoping you do too. pure fluff bc we all need a little light in our lives and hollstein, papa hollis, and the hollis-karnstein kids are exactly that. you don’t /need/ to have read the first two works in this series, but it helps!anyway i’ll be updating once daily from december 24 - 31. happy holidays, y’all!!!





	1. December 2019

**Author's Note:**

  * For [professor oaklin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=professor+oaklin).



> this whole thing kinda doubles as a hanukkah/xmas gift to my good buddy oak bc i’ve been badgering them w headcanons re: this verse for our entire friendship but especially these last few weeks. and also they have the same amount of love for this verse as i do, so, yeah, happy chrismukkah ya dweeb ily
> 
> tbh this is v nearly plotless fluff but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> also ‘/’ denotes the passage of time ok enjoy!

The choice to move was a natural one. You and Carm both love the city - really, _really_ love it - but you want a family, and each of you agreed that a bustling city isn’t where you wanted to raise yours. The downside is, of course, that your dearest friends still reside there, but that’s what FaceTime and vacations are for, right?

It was over a year ago when you first mentioned relocating to Carm.

“But what about your job?” she’d asked.

“What about _yours_?”

“I can fight fires anywhere. You work for _Newsweek,_ Laura. _Newsweek_!”

“Carm,” you laughed. “I can write anywhere! I’ve had a great run with _Newsweek_ and I’m proud of the work I’ve done, but my job is always going to come second to my life with you.”

Carmilla’s eyes went soft and she tilted her head at you. “Where do you want to go?”

“I… hadn’t gotten that far in my thought process,” you’d admitted.

You’d both set to researching then. You quickly agreed on staying in the northeast region of the United States.

“That way,” you’d reasoned, “we can still pop in and see our friends or they can come out and see us and it won’t be a big hassle!”

/

Carm was the first to suggest Vermont, on account of its proximity to the city, the scenery, and the work opportunities for you both.

“Plus,” she’d shrugged, “there’s that gigantic teddy bear factory.”

“ _And_ ,” you’d added, “the home of Ben & Jerry’s!”

/

When you and Carm had made a final decision, the first thing you did was call your dad. As always, he picks up immediately.

“Hey, pumpkin!”

“Dad,” you’d laughed. “Hi. How are you? _Where_ are you?”

“I’m in California, working on the National Park Service job. You’ve _got_ to come out and see these redwoods someday. Carmilla would just about pass out from the beauty, I think.”

“It’s on the to-do list,” you told him. “Speaking of trips…”

“What’s on the agenda?”

“Well… Carm and I have decided to move out of the city. We’re going to Vermont. Montpelier, to be exact. We’ve done all the research and we have a real estate agent and we’re going to find a house with a yard and maybe get a dog or something and I also have interviews set up and Carm found a fire station already and -”

“That’s great!” your dad had said. “What’s got you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous!”

“Laura,” he’d said gently.

“I’m excited, Dad, I really am, but it’s scary. I’ve been here since I graduated from Silas. It’s a big change! But an awesome one, right?”

“Right. Right!”

“I wasn’t nervous until I called you.”

“That’s usually how it works, kid. Listen, it’s the next chapter of your life. It’s big, but it doesn’t have to be scary.”

“It’s me and Carm; it won’t be scary.”

/

It all took off from there quickly and, before you knew it, you and Carm were closing on a house and putting in notice at each of your jobs. Then, all of a sudden, all the boxes on your calendar leading up to December 20, 2019: MOVING DAY! had been checked off and it’s time to embark on your new adventure with your wife.

/

“God,” Carm groans as she lets another box _thud_ to the floor in your new foyer. “Who the fuck thought moving in the middle of December was a good idea?”

“You did,” you say as you set down a box of your own and kiss her on the cheek.

“Oh,” she says. “Right. Well, who the _fuck_ didn’t talk me out of it?”

You only laugh in response as you pass her to head back out to the moving van.

/

A few hours later, you’ve brought in and unpacked the bare necessities and Carmilla has run out for groceries. That’s how you got here, sitting cross-legged on a blanket in the middle of your unfurnished living room with your wife, eating Chinese food, and drinking wine.

“There’s so much _space_ ,” Carmilla says after having a few glasses. She’s walking around barefoot, eyes wide like she can’t believe this is hers. _Yours_ , together.

“Can you believe we have three floors all to ourselves?”

“And a yard!” She’s at the window now, looking out over the backyard. It’s not much right now, but it’s enough. Carm has a small smile playing at her lips and the moonlight is shining through the window just enough to illuminate her face. “Laura?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“When the snow melts, can we have a garden?”

“A garden?” you ask, and she turns to look at you and nods. “Of course. If you want a garden, a garden we’ll have.”

“My mom had one,” Carmilla says, absentmindedly playing with the bronze ring on her right forefinger. A matching one sits on yours and your hearts swells every time she touches hers. “She grew all of our veggies in our backyard, and she taught me how to do it all. I haven’t had a garden since she was alive.”

You push yourself to your feet and join Carmilla at the sliding glass door. You hug her from behind and she presses back into you as she takes your hands in hers.

“When we have kids, I’ll teach them to garden, too.”

“Perfect,” you say, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Carmilla turns there and kisses you fully and, in this new and strange place, you feel at home.

/

You wake up the next morning, Carmilla’s naked body pressed against yours, on that same blanket in the middle of the living room floor, body aching in good ways _and_ bad. You turn over in Carmilla’s embrace and your breath catches; she’s just so _beautiful_. It’s funny, now, to think about how far the two of you have come from a drunken marriage, from how hard you fought to not feel what your heart wanted you to.

“What’re you lookin’ at,” Carmilla mumbles and a grin spreads across your face.

“Just the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world,” you say, brushing hair from Carmilla’s face.

“Mmm,” she says, “Did I fall asleep with a mirror on my face?”

“You’re - god, that’s an awful line.”

“Did it work?” she says, opening one eye. Your smile gives you away and she says, “Thought so.”

Just then, the mail slot on the door clicks open and then closed and it pulls your attention from Carmilla.

A small piece of paper is lying just in front of the door and you roll from Carmilla - who immediately whines in protest, the drama queen - to see what it is.

You pad to the front door, suddenly very grateful that you’d decided to hang and _close_ your front curtains, and reach for the paper. It’s a thick piece of navy cardstock and, in large, white block letters, it says, “Happy solstice!” You read it over quickly and then squeal in excitement when you realize what it is.

“Are you going to share with the class, cupcake?”

“Our neighbors invited us to a party! A winter solstice party!”

“A _what_? People do that?”

“Montpelier people do!” You rush back to the blanket and kneel beside your wife. “Carm, this is great! We’re being welcomed to the neighborhood! Oh god. _Fuck._ ”

“What?” she asks, sitting up at your sudden shift in tone.

“What am I going to wear? What are _you_ going to wear? Should we bring something? We should, right? That’s what people do at adult parties. They bring cheese or wine or fruit platters. What are we going to bring?”

Carmilla gently takes your hands, which were previously flailing around.

“Laura, one step at a time,” she says.

“You know I can’t do ‘one step at -’”

“Laura,” she laughs. “It’s a neighborhood party. How serious could it be?”

/

Very serious, it turns out.

/

You weren’t sure about the dress code for a solstice party - Google wasn’t helpful and neither was your wife - so you decided on a sweater dress and tights. Carm put on her favorite pair of leather pants and you had briefly considered talking her out of it - you want to make a _good_ impression - but she caught you looking and you decided you need her ass in those pants if you’re going to be calm and confident at this party.

You had told her as much and she’d replied, “Are you telling me that Miss Maximus is your security blanket?”

You’re trying to keep calm as you walk down the street with Carm, her hand in yours, but, as always, she sees through you.

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asks, lightly bumping your hip with hers.

“I just - I want them to like us,” you say, and it sounds pathetic coming out of your mouth.

Carmilla suddenly stops walking, halting you with her.

“Laura,” she starts, voice soft. “They all invited us to a party within the first twenty-four hours of us living here, which tells me they want to welcome us to this community. You are bright and kind and wonderful; there’s absolutely no way you’re not gonna sell them on the Hollis-Karnsteins.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, but her eyes are soft and the corners of her lips are slightly upturned when she kisses you.

/

Carm rings the doorbell at the Watson’s house and you push out an anxious breath. The door is quickly pulled open and you’re face-to-face with a young, red-headed woman with a baby on her hip.

“You must be the new neighbors! Welcome, come on in!”

Carm steps over the threshold first, tugging you gently along with her left hand.

“I’m Carmilla Hollis-Karnstein,” she says.

[You wonder if hearing her say that will ever get less exciting.]

[You’re willing to bet it won’t.]

“And this is my wife, Laura. Thank you so much for inviting us.”

“I’m Tara,” she says and then she gestures to her child, “and this is Quinn. My husband, Ryan, is out back tending to the fire. Most of the neighborhood is already here, so I’ll introduce you.”

“We, um, weren’t sure what to bring, so we decided on a bottle of wine,” you say, holding out your gift.

“That’s lovely; thank you, Laura. Have you ever been to a solstice party?” You shake your head. “Well then, you’re in for a treat. In short, we come together on the shortest day - the _darkest_ day - to celebrate the light in the world, the things for which we’re grateful. We sing and talk and enjoy the company of one another and nature. It’s a night of reflection, really.”

“We have a lot to be grateful for,” Carmilla says, taking your hand again, “so we’re in.”

/

Tara quickly introduces you to everyone, and you do your very best to keep track of names and faces. You meet your next-door neighbors, who turn out to be an older couple, Richard and Susan, on one side, and a young, single woman, Kiara, on the other. There’s Todd and Brian, Kate and Tom, Marc, Doug and Heather, Nathan and Claire, and Izzie. You think that’s everyone. Some of their kids are running around together, but you figure you can worry about their names later.

It’s hard to focus on all of that, though, when your attention is being constantly pulled to the large spiral on the edge of the woods in the Watson’s yard. It looks as if it’s made by branches and there are candles dispersed along the path, seemingly randomly.

Tara must notice because she says, “That’s the advent spiral. If you’d like to walk it, take and light a candle in one of the votives and move along the path, all the while thinking about what’s important to you, what brings you peace and happiness. When you feel satisfied, stop and place your votive alongside the branches.”

“I think I will,” you nod. “Thank you.”

Carmilla quickly gets pulled into a conversation about her having joined the Montpelier Fire Department, so you squeeze her hand before letting it go and heading toward the spiral. It’s kind of breathtaking, if you’re being honest. The Watsons have strung up lights in the trees at the edge of their yard and that, coupled with the fire in the center of the yard, casts a soft glow on the spiral. Your chest feels full as you walk, candle in hand, to the spiral, Carm’s laughter permeating the air around you.

When you make it to the outermost portion of the spiral, you pause. You have _so_ much to be thankful for; where do you even begin? Carm is the most obvious, the most concrete and tangible thing that you feel an overwhelming sense of gratefulness for. You take a few slow steps and you think about your journey here, to this moment in time, with Carmilla’s ring on your finger. You think about Danny and how you’re happy, now, that she cheated on you, because it brought you to that bar, it brought you to Carm. You think about LaFontaine and Perry and their unwavering support, all the way from your college days at Silas through to today. You think about your dad. Your wonderful, marvelous, loving dad. It all has your heart swelling and you feel yourself getting emotional. You pull in a deep breath and a few tears escape; you roll your eyes at yourself.

This must be the moment.

You look at your progress and you’re nearly three-quarters into the spiral. You crouch down and place the votive containing your still-lit candle in the snow beside some of the evergreen branches.

You don’t leave just yet, though. You press your palm deep down into the snow and close your eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper. To who, you don’t know.

When you rejoin Carmilla and your neighbors, her eyes flit between each of yours and a crease forms between her brows. You shake your head, a silent signal that everything’s okay, and kiss her quickly.

“Did y’all see that? Those two just had an entire conversation with their eyes.”

Carmilla flushes so you say, “We have a shorthand. Like, a _super_ shorthand.”

“Ignore my husband,” Brian says, “He’s been watching a lot of _Elementary_ , so he thinks he’s -”

“Tell us your story,” Todd interrupts.

You look at Carmilla and she takes your hand. “Well, it all started on a rainy day at Silas University -”

“She was The _Worst_ ,” you interject.

“Do you want to tell this story?” she asks with a smile.

“No, no. I like the way you tell it.”

“Anyway, it started on a rainy day at Silas University, and she's right, I _was_ the worst.”

/

When you get home - _home_ \- you pull Carmilla upstairs to your bedroom, which is currently only furnished with your box frame, mattress, and a few suitcases, and push her down onto the bed. She braces her short fall, propping herself up on her elbows, and you pull off your dress before climbing atop her.

“Happy solstice, Carm. Welcome home.”


	2. December 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> laura makes an executive decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick chapter, sorry, but i wrote this at 4am and then i did christmas things with my family all day so i didn’t have time to flesh it out more. but i have later chapters fully written and they’re much longer, so i hope that’ll make up for it. merry xmas!!!
> 
> also i didn't proof this bc i'm too tired to function rn

You’ve had a long shift at the MFD - or the Mother Fuckers Department, as you so lovingly call it - and you’re very much looking forward to flopping onto the couch in your living room. Laura, however, has other plans for you.

You push open the front door and while you’re taking your boots off, you hear Laura’s voice around the corner. It’s low but sweet and you haven’t heard her use that tone with anyone but you in many years.

You hang your jacket and keys on their respective hooks and follow the sound of Laura’s voice. She isn’t in the living room so you head toward the kitchen. Her voice is closer now and you realize she’s in the bathroom.

The door is ajar so you push it open and Laura, who’s crouched on the tile floor, back to you, whips her head around. Guilt is etched into her features but she tries to cover it up with an anxious smile.

“Hey,” you say, a little uncertain.

“Hey,” she answers, and her voice is at a higher pitch than usual.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Okay, um, so y’know how we talked about getting a dog?”

“Sure do,” you say, head tilting.

She spins around then and cradled to her chest is the tiniest puppy you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t be mad! One of my editors’ dogs just had a litter and she brought some of them to work and she was looking for someone to adopt them and, Carm, this little scrunchy pup looked at me with her big droopy eyes and I fell in love and it was like she was _made_ for us and, just, don’t be mad.”

Laura heaves out a sigh when she finishes her rant and you kneel down in front of her. You look the puppy over and you can see why Laura couldn’t help herself. She’s tan around the eyes - those god damn adorable eyes - with a black body and white feet. The tip of her tail is white as well and she’s so, so small.

“I always wanted a Basset Hound,” you say, scratching the puppy behind one of her floppy ears.

Laura grins and squeals before pulling you into a hug with her free arm, careful not to crush the dog between you.

/

The dog is clumsy - you think it must still be getting used to its 8-week-old body - and you love her even more for it. In fact, it helps you choose a name for her.

You and Laura spend the next few days calling her “The Dog” or “Pup,” all the while bouncing ideas for names off each other, but nothing seems to fit.

Now it’s Friday night and you’re finishing yet another long shift at the department. It’s not easy being a lieutenant, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You’d picked up take-out for you and Laura and your captain had sent you home with treats that his dog is fond of.

You enter the house and upon opening the door, you’re met with the sound of tiny feet scrambling on the hardwood floor toward you. You look up just in time to see The Dog come flying around the corner, only she loses her balance and skitters a bit before barrel rolling a few feet.

“Smooth, sundance. _Smooth_ ,” you say, and The Dog regains her footing just as quickly as she’d lost it and comes to jump at your leg.

You’re leaning down to greet her when your wife peeks around the corner and shouts, “That’s it!”

You and Pup both flinch, the latter yipping at the sudden break of silence.

“What’s it?”

“Sundance! Her name is Sundance!”

“Sundance,” you repeat, and The Dog lays down at your feet. “That’s it.”

Laura moves to you and kisses you sweetly before lifting up the dog and saying, “Welcome to the family, Sundance Hollis-Karnstein.

/

“I ought to get one of those sweaters that says, ‘Ask me about my granddog!’”

“Dad, no,” Laura says, all the while laughing.

“Can’t a guy be proud of his daughters for becoming moms?”

“ _Dog_ moms.”

“But moms nonetheless. Where is the little rascal? I’ve only seen the million photos of her that you’ve sent me; I want to see her in action.”

“I’ll grab her,” Laura says, handing you the iPad. “Here, FaceTime with him.”

You put down your laptop - you have reports on reports on reports to catch up on - and give Marc your full attention.

“Hey Dad,” you say, and his omnipresent grin stretches even further.

“Hey, kid. How goes it?”

“Can’t complain. Work is good, home is even better. Where are you right now?”

“Australian outback. I’m doing the wildlife shoot for _Nat Geo_.”

“God, what is your life?”

“I ask myself that every morning, Carmilla.”

You smile. “We miss you. You should come visit during your next break.”

“I’d love nothing more.”

Laura comes back, then, and plops down next to you, Sunny happily in her arms.

“Say hi to your grandpapa, Sunny!” Laura says, and you and Marc exchange a look that you can only describe as loving because there is so much light and goodness in your lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comin atcha: hollis-karnstein children


	3. December 2022

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another addition to the hollis-karnstein family!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jsyk this starts in december of 2022, as identified by the chapter title, but then features a series of flashbacks, beginning in june of 2021 and then works its way back to december 2022.
> 
> ps i'm posting this just under the wire 11:59 EST but it's hella long so that'll make up for it... right?

Laura’s making hot cocoa on the morning of Christmas Eve when you hear her call to you.

“Carm!” she says, voice tight with panic.

You spring from your spot on the couch to your feet and hurry to the kitchen, almost tripping over Sunny in the process.

“What?” you say when you round the corner. “What’s wrong?”

She’s standing in front of the refrigerator, mug in hand, staring at her feet.

“It broke,” she says.

“What -”

Laura looks up at you, then, and the look on her face - like a deer in headlights - silences you. “My water. It’s just broke. The baby - it’s happening - I’m -”

“You’re going into labor - wow, okay, this is - okay, everything’s fine,” you say, moving toward your very pregnant wife. You take her cheeks in your hands and kiss her; you feel her relax under your touch. “We’re having a baby.”

“We’re having a baby,” Laura repeats, and you both soak up the moment.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Carm,” she says one hot summer afternoon.

It was a rare shared day off for you both, and you’d decided to spend the afternoon lying on lounge chairs in the backyard. You’re in gym shorts and a sports bra, Laura’s in a bikini, and you’re both blissed out on each other.

“Hmm,” you hum in response.

“I think we should have a baby.” You let your head fall to the side so you can look at her. Laura’s already looking at you with a nervous smile on her face. You reach out and wiggle your fingers; Laura takes the hint and then your hand. “I wanna have a baby with you.”

“Me too,” you say with a smile.

“Now?”

“Well,” you start, “I would gladly make a baby with you right now if we could.”

“You would?”

“Obviously I would,” you scoff. “I would love to. But, alas, I don’t have the right equipment. So what are our next steps?”

“Wait, we’re doing this? Just like that?”

“Laura, I want a family with you. I’m ready when you are. And if I know you, you’ve been researching for - oh, I don’t know - a good ten days so that you could come to me with a full explanation of what options we have, what’s safest, and your opinion on it so we could discuss. So I figure it’s easier that we cut off the back-and-forth of ‘Should we? Shouldn’t we?’ when I think we definitely should so we can skip to the fun and terrifying planning part.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Laura says, rising to her feet and pulling you to yours. She kisses you hard on the mouth before saying, “I fucking love you, Carmilla Josephina Hollis-Karnstein.”

Laura skips off toward the house, leaving you a little dumbfounded until she calls over her shoulder, “You might not have the right equipment, but I think we oughta practice anyway.”

[Many hours later, when each of you is too tired to move, she says, “It was only _nine_ days of research."]

/

Together, you decide Laura will carry the baby and that you’ll choose a sperm donor. That’s the easy part; Laura insists on finding a donor that has some of your features.

“Your eyes and cheekbones are very important to me, Carm,” she’d said, and you didn’t argue because, in truth, it hurts a little that you and Laura can’t just make a baby the way a man and a woman can, so if there’s a chance you can pick a donor that looks even a _little_ like you, you’re all for it. You tell Laura as much, in a quiet voice, and you feel guilty because you know that, no matter what, you will be one of this baby’s moms, and that fact makes your heart feel light, but there’s this nagging part of you that’s bitter that a person with a penis and a person with a vagina can just accidentally get pregnant and meanwhile, you have to inject your wife with hormones and Laura has to go through the process of artificial insemination and there isn’t even a guarantee that it’ll work!

“This baby is going to be ours. Yours and mine, Carm. You love harder and deeper than anyone I’ve ever met, and our baby will be lucky to have you as their mama.”

/

The insemination process is grueling - emotionally for you both and physically for Laura. When the first few attempts don’t take, your OB-GYN assures you that it’s normal, but it’s hard to believe that.

When Laura gets her period in December after the third try, she says, “I need a break, Carm. I can’t keep getting my hopes up.”

You agree because of course you do; you don’t want her to have her heart broken over and over again.

“Plus,” you tell her, “It’s nearly the holidays. Let’s just try to enjoy Hanukkah and Christmas and New Year’s, okay?”

“Okay,” she says and she kisses you. “Thank you.”

/

December comes and goes and Laura seems like she’s getting back to feeling like herself. She continues with the hormones because “ _We haven’t thrown in the towel; we’re just taking an intermission,”_ Laura had said.

/

“I think we should do one more,” Laura says one day in March. She’s scrubbing a counter in the kitchen and you’re reading at the island. You’d looked up at her when she spoke and she clarifies, “One more artificial insemination.”

You hadn’t brought it up in some time. It felt too touchy and you didn’t want Laura to feel like you were pushing her; it _is_ her body, after all.

“I thought you wanted to take a break,” you say carefully.

“I did, or I thought I did. But, I just - I don’t know. I have this feeling. I think we should do one more and if _that_ doesn’t work, we’ll take a break.”

“You’re sure?”

“Do you still want to have a baby with me?”

“Laura,” you say, moving to stand beside her, “yes. _Yes_. Of course I do.”

“Then yes, I’m sure. Let’s try again.”

“I’ll call our OB in the morning,” you say and Laura beams.

/

You try not to get your hopes up when Laura misses her period in April. You can tell she’s bracing herself, too, and it feels like bad luck to talk about it, but you can’t help yourself.

“How do you feel?” you ask when April is winding to a close.

“Hopeful. _Scared_ that I’m hopeful.”

“Me too,” you admit, “but what if…”

“Exactly. _What if_?”

/

After her second missed period, you buy five different brands of pregnancy tests and two giant jugs of Sunny D on your way home from work.

When you walk into the house, you announce, “We’re doing this _Juno_ style.”

/

All five tests come back positive.

/

A week later, your doctor confirms it: Laura’s pregnant. Laura is pregnant and you’re going to be a mom. You celebrate for a long, long time that afternoon in just about every room of the house.

Afterward, when Laura is tucked into your side, her skin against yours, she sleepily says, “We should tell Dad.”

“We should,” you agree, “but maybe in the morning.”

“The morning,” she says, nodding her head.

“You’re _pregnant_ ,” you say.

You feel her lips turn up against the skin of your shoulder.

“ _Yeah_ I am.”

/

Marc cries when you tell him and he doesn’t even try to make it discreet.

He comes to town for a week in July, just before his birthday, and you had waited to tell him about the pregnancy in person.

The three of you are eating dinner on your back porch when Laura says, “Dad, we’ve got a present for you!” before rushing inside.

“You two are full of surprises, huh?”

“You have no idea,” you tell him.

Laura comes back with a fairly plain looking gift bag and Marc sets to pulling the tissue paper out of it. He pulls out the maroon sweater inside and shakes it out so he can see what’s printed on the front. You hear his breath catch and one of his hands releases the sweater to cover his mouth.

Marc laughs but it’s wet with tears when he says, “Do you mean it?”

He drops the sweater to the table and you can see the white lettering that spells out “Ask me about my grandkid!”

You reach out to take his free hand and Laura says, “Yeah, Dad. We’re having a baby.”

“I’m going to be a grandpop?” he asks, smile wide and tears streaming down his face.

“You are. The _best_ grandpapa,” Laura says, and now her eyes are shimmering too. Sunny yips beside her and she adds, in a quiet voice, “Sorry, pup.”

/

“I never thought I would be a mom,” you whisper.

Laura is seven months pregnant and is really showing now and, you’d been right to assume that she is the most beautiful pregnant woman you’ve ever seen. Granted, you may be slightly biased, but still. The new curves she has are _really_ hot and there’s something about knowing she’s carrying your child that gets to you, which totally works out because it turns out that pregnancy ups Laura’s sex drive.

Tonight, though, you’re just laying in bed together and you can feel the swell of her belly against yours. You’ve taken to being the big spoon since she started showing. It’s more comfortable for her, and you like the feeling of holding her and your child. But for now, you’re facing each other and talking.

You’re running your hand through Laura’s hair, scratching at the back of her neck, when you make that confession, and her sleepy eyes pop open. She doesn’t rush you to say anything more; she just pecks you on the lips and waits.

“I never thought I’d have this life and I’ve never been so happy to be wrong. I wish my parents could see it, and Will.”

“They’d be so proud, Carm. _So_ proud.”

“Thank you,” you say, pressing your forehead against Laura’s.

“Also,” Laura starts, “speaking of Will, I wanted to ask you something.” You pull back from her to look her in the eye. “Ever since we found out our baby’s sex is male… I just, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this, but I wasn’t sure - I -”

“Sweetheart,” you interrupt. “Breathe. What is it?”

Laura takes a deep breath and then she says, “What do you think about naming him William?”

Your breath catches and you feel your eyes fill with tears.

“No, no,” Laura says, voice panicked. “Don’t cry. Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to -”

You cut her off with a kiss that she’s quick to sink into and a few tears spill down your cheeks.

When you pull back from her, you ask, “Can we?”

“ _Carm_ ,” she says. “I know how important he was - _is_ \- to you. I want him to continue to be a part of our family, and the best way to do that - to honor him - is to give our baby his name, right?”

You cough out a sob then and Laura pulls you even closer to her, which results in you letting go and letting yourself cry - really cry - because Laura is so deeply thoughtful and kind and Good and you miss your brother.

“We’ll call him Will. William… _Marc_ Hollis-Karnstein?”

She sounds uncertain and you don’t trust your voice so you nod your head and tighten your grip on her.

 

* * *

 

 _We’re having a baby_ ,” Laura repeats and you both soak up the moment.

Then you spring into action.

“Okay, I’m going to double-check our pre-packed overnight bags and call your dad. Then I’m going to run you a bath and I’ll clean up in here, alright?”

“I can call Dad,” she says.

“Are you sure?”

“I need something to do,” she nods. “We can’t go to the hospital until -”

“Until your contractions are five minutes apart for an hour or so,” you finish.

“You really memorized everything in those books, huh?” she says, trying to laugh, but you can hear her nerves.

“Of course,” you say, moving one of your hands to her belly. “I have two people to take care of; I needed all the information.”

“I love you,” Laura says, and you kiss her again.

“Since forever; for forever.” you tell her against her lips.

/

You’ve had the overnight bags packed for a month, so all you need to do is add your phone chargers, wallets, and various toiletries. You clean up the kitchen quickly and meet Laura in your master bathroom, where she’s trying to get the water to the perfect temperature.

“I told you I’d run the bath,” you say, sitting on the edge of the tub with her.

“It’s okay. My talk with Dad was quick and mainly consisted of ‘Are you okay? Is Carmilla okay? Yes? Great, getting on the next plane. See you soon. Love you, pumpkin, bye!’” she says in her best Marc impression, which, you admit, is pretty good. “Will you get in with me?”

You take your clothes off before helping Laura out of hers before sliding into the tub. Laura steps in and you guide her to be sitting between your legs, her back to your front. She lets out a long breath and you feel her body release tension as she sinks into you.

“Have you had any contractions?”

“Little ones, starting way early this morning. I thought it was just Braxton-Hicks and then all the sudden I’m minding my own business, trying to make some cocoa, and my water is breaking all over our kitchen.”

“You should’ve told me,” you say, linking your hands over Laura’s stomach.

“I know; I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to worry you for nothing, but it turned out to not be nothing.”

“It’s okay,” you tell her and she turns her head enough so that she can kiss you. “How do you feel?”

“Scared out of my mind. But mostly excited and happy. _So_ happy.”

“Me too.”

/

You stay in the bath until it’s too cold, all the while alternating between talking about Will’s arrival, smiling like idiots, bracing for contractions, and kissing each other silly.

/

“Can we, just, walk around the house?” Laura asks after you dry her off and she gets dressed.

“Sure,” you say. “Let me bring our bags out to the truck quick, though.”

In the sixty seconds it takes for you to get to the driveway and back, something changes.

When you re-enter the house, Laura is putting her jacket on, brow furrowed, and you say, “Wait, hey, what are you doing?”

“Something’s wrong,” she says shaking her head as she zips her coat.

Your body is buzzing with anxiety when you say, “What? What’s wrong? What can I do?”

“You can drive us to the hospital. Something feels… off. Just, _wrong_ , Carm. I can’t explain it, but we have to go. Can we go?”

“Yes, of course. Yes,” you say, reaching for her. “Come on.”

/

Laura is admitted fairly quickly because, after all, she’s a woman in labor, but it turns out that your OB herself is unreachable.

“She has the flu,” a nurse explains and you see Laura’s face drop, hear her breathing pick up.

“Laura. Laura, hey,” you say. “It’s okay. _You’re_ okay. Breathe slow for me, okay? They have someone on call. It’s not Dr. Meyer, but it’s an equally capable doctor who’s going to make sure that you and Will are safe and healthy, alright?”

She nods quickly and says, “Alright. Yeah, alright.”

The same nurse guides Laura into a wheelchair and you quickly ask, “Do you mind if I push her chair?”

“Go ahead,” the nurse says. “Follow me.”

/

It’s too long before the doctor shows his face.

By the time he strolls through the door, Laura is squirming with anxiety and you’re shaking with anger.

“Hi, Mrs.,” he pauses, looking at the clipboard in his hand, “Hollis-Karnstein. I’m told you’re in labor and that Dr. Meyer is your OB-GYN. I’ll be taking over for her today, as I’m sure you’ve been told. We’re going to wait until your contractions are closer together and until you’re more dilated and then we’ll start the hard work.”

He turns to leave just as quickly as he came in and you and Laura both say, “Wait!”

Dr. Nameless brings his attention back to you and Laura says, “I really think I need an exam. Something is wrong; the baby feels off.”

Dr. Douche waves his hand, “First time mothers think that all the time. It’s nothing to worry about. Nurse Stevens will be in to check on you soon.”

“Hey!” you call and he actually rolls his eyes at you. “My wife is telling you that something is wrong. Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, _do your job_?”

Dr. Human-Stain advances toward you and says, “Do not presume to tell me how to treat my patients. You -”

You lose it then and grab the doctor by his jacket with your right hand and force him against the wall, left forearm against his neck.

“If you were actually _treating_ your patient instead of writing her off as a hysterical, paranoid first-time mother, I wouldn’t _have_ to tell you how to do your job. But it seems like your head is stuck so far up your own ass that you can’t see or care about the fact that a woman in your care is in genuine pain and discomfort. If I were you, I’d do something about it. _Now._ Or get us another god damn doctor who knows what the _fuck_ they’re doing.”

He raises his hands in surrender and you release the pressure from his windpipe. Just as quickly, his finger is in your face.

“If you think _that_ is going to get you want you want -”

He’s cut off by a booming voice saying, “Dr. Janson!” You turn toward the door and there’s another, older doctor. “Out. _Now_.”

Dr. Janson glares at you but leaves the room, shoving Laura’s chart into the other man’s hands as he goes.

The other doctor enters, holds out his hand and says, “My name is Dr. Eric Hundt, Chief of Surgery. I’m sorry for the way you were just spoken to. What seems to be the problem here?”

He’s already looking over the chart in his hands when Laura says, “My water broke, what, Carm? Five hours ago?” You nod. “But something feels wrong. I can’t - I don’t know how to explain it; I just _know_.”

“Alright, Mrs. Hollis-Karnstein -”

“Call me Laura, please.”

“Alright, Laura. Let’s look you over.” He looks to you then. “You’re her wife?”

“Yes, sir,” you nod.

He tilts his head toward Laura. “Come and hold her hand.”

You exhale for what feels like the first time since Laura’s water broke this morning. Laura reaches for you and you move around to her left side, opposite Dr. Hundt.

“We’re going to do an ultrasound,” he says, and Laura pulls up her shirt with her free hand.

Dr. Hundt begins the ultrasound and his eyes don’t leave the monitor beside Laura’s bed for a few long moments before he looks to the nurse still in the room and says, “Prep OR 7 for me.”

Laura’s grip tightens on your hand and you say, “What’s wrong?”

“The baby has shifted so that he’s breech. With your consent, I’d like to do an emergency c-section. I know this wasn’t your plan and I know that I’m not your doctor, but this is the safest way to deliver your otherwise healthy baby.”

You look at Laura who’s already looking at you.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“I think we should do what’s best for both you _and_ the baby. You had a gut feeling that something was wrong. What is your gut telling you now?”

“That we do the c-section.”

You look back to Dr. Hundt and say, “Let’s do it.”

/

You help push Laura’s bed to the elevator, in which you have to close your eyes tight and take careful, measured breaths, and toward the operating room. Before you get to the doors, Dr. Hundt halts.

“Mrs. Hollis-Karnstein -”

“Carmilla,” you say.

“Carmilla, you’ll need to change into scrubs and wait until we’ve administered Laura’s anesthesia to come into the OR, okay?”

You look down at Laura, who nods, and you say, “Alright.”

“Hughes!” Dr Hundt calls and a woman in light blue scrubs quickly approaches. “Please get Carmilla prepped and ready for her wife’s c-section and bring her down to OR 7 immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. Hundt and a nurse start to move Laura’s bed away but she tightens her grip on your hand.

“I’ll be right there, baby. I’ll be right there. Just breathe and think about how beautiful our baby boy is going to be, okay? I’ll be right there.”

/

As soon as you’re allowed to, you rush to Laura’s side in the OR, clad in navy scrubs.

“I hope you’re allowed to keep those because we could _totally_ do some doctor-patient role-play,” Laura says and she’s trying to sound confident but her tone betrays her. You take her hand and lean down to kiss her. “I’m scared,” she admits.

“Me too, but you know what? I’m also full of hope and love and you are the strongest woman I know. Dr. Hundt is going to take care of you and Will, I just know it.

/

The c-section doesn’t take long, relatively speaking, and the whole time, you’re holding Laura’s hand, keeping her calm, and sneaking peeks at the doctors’ work.

Before you know it, they’re gently pulling the baby - your baby - out, and the first cry that erupts from his tiny body is the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You start to cry and you look down at Laura and say, “You did it. He’s here, Laura. Will’s here.”

She cries then too, all the while smiling, and says, “He’s okay?”

“He’s more than okay,” you say, leaning down to kiss her quickly. “He’s perfect.”

“Do you want to cut the cord?” Dr. Hundt asks.

You nod and he offers you the umbilical scissors. You keep your right hand in Laura’s while you cut Will’s umbilical chord with your left hand and as you do so, you swear he looks right in your eyes; you fall in love.

A nurse takes him away to clean him up and the doctors at the table set to sewing Laura up.

“How do you feel right now?” you ask. “Are you in any pain?”

“No,” Laura shakes her head. “No. _God_ , no. I can’t feel any of it right now. But, Carm, we’re _moms_.”

“We’re moms,” you repeat, leaning down to kiss Laura. You can tell she’s tired but she returns the kiss anyway and your happy tears mingle together.

“Carmilla,” Dr. Hundt says, “would you like to hold him?”

You stand up and he hands you your son, who’s not only swaddled in a white towel but is also snuggled inside a red stocking. You take him in your arms as gingerly as possible and your chest feels like it could burst.

You press a kiss to the top of his head before saying, “Merry Christmas, Laura. _Thank you_.”

/

After your next sleep, you wake up on Laura’s hospital bed, curled into her and Will is sleeping soundly on her chest. One of your arms is folded under your head and the other is draped over your son and wife and you realize that you have never felt such joy, such peace.


	4. New Year's Day, 2026 - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where fire takes but it also makes

You’d made it through all of New Year’s Eve without being called into work, but your luck comes to an end when your shrill work phone’s ringer jolts you from sleep at 4:47AM. You silence it as quickly as you can, hoping not to wake your sleeping wife, and fly into action, mentally checking off everything you need before you can head out to meet the rig as you pull on your gear.

You’re about to slip out of your bedroom when her voice calls your name.

“Carm,” Laura says, voice rough from sleep. You backtrack and move alongside her half of the bed and she takes your hand. “Be careful, ‘kay?”

Her eyes are just barely open and you brush her hair from in front of them. “Always,” you say before kissing her sweetly. “Sleep, love. I’ll call you later.”

Laura’s already asleep by the time you finish your sentence. You peek into Will’s room - he’s sleeping soundly - before heading downstairs and out the door.

Sometimes, you still feel silly climbing into your pick-up truck - a Ford F-150. She’s beautiful, of course, but you literally had to install a step to get into it. In fact, when you first drove it into work, some of your friends were out front washing the rigs and when you’d jumped down from the driver’s seat, one of them jested, putting on a southern accent, “That’s a mighty big truck for such a little lady. Compensatin’ for somethin’?”

You didn’t tell him it’s the only enclosed motor vehicle that doesn’t send you into a panic attack. Instead, you’d said, “We have to give the appearance that at least _one_ of us isn’t a wimp, Paul. Between my Harley and Betty here,” you’d added, pointing over shoulder at your denim blue truck with your thumb, “I’ve got this entire goddamn department covered.”

You don’t feel that anxiety you know so well now, though, heading toward a call. You feel strong and sure. You feel comfortable with the feeling of your truck’s engine rumbling. For a moment, you forget you’re headed toward a tragedy and bask in this moment of safety.

Before long, you’re pulling up to and visually scanning a home fully engulfed in flames. Two units are focused on tamping down the flames and you know that a group of your squad must be inside the home itself, searching for residents through the thick, black smoke. You jump from your car and push through the group of curious and concerned neighbors who have gathered in the street. When your captain spots you, he tosses you a mask.

“What do we have, Captain?”

“Family of four. One senior adult male and two middle-age adults have been found. They didn’t make it. Smoke inhalation, probably. Neighbors say there’s a kid in there. A girl. Small. One year old or so. Even if she makes it, she’ll have lost her entire family.”

You feel like all the air has been sucked from your lungs. Fires create orphans -- you know this more intimately than most -- but you’ve never been called to a scene that so closely resembles the one of which you were a part all those years ago. And then you can almost see it, your childhood home turned to ashes. You can almost smell it, the acrid air filled with the scent of smoke and burnt skin. You can almost hear it, the cries from your mother followed by the loudest silence you’ve ever heard.

Captain Shepherd claps you gently on the back and you shake yourself out of your reverie.

“This one’s tough for you, I know. If you want to sit it out -”

You cut him off with the shake of your head. “I’m good,” you say, pulling on your mask and helmet.

“How much of the home have they swept for survivors?”

“Last radio call said they were on the first floor. Basement’s clear. Turn on your radio.”

“Will do, Cap,” you say before heading toward the flames.

“ _Be careful, ‘kay?”_ echoes in your brain as you cross the threshold.

/

Once inside, you radio to your squad.

“Alpha team, this is Lt. Hollis-Karnstein. Where are we at?”

“Basement is clear. Found three bodies on ground level. All DOAs. Ready to sweep the upstairs,” Hanna says.

“On my way there. Hold at the steps.”

You make your way through the living room - or, at least, what you’re pretty sure is the living room; the smoke makes it difficult to know for sure - and around a corner and you’re met with your search and rescue squad.

You take point and lead the other three up the stairs.

“Who checked the structure?”

“I did,” Hanna says. “We’re good right now, but we should be quick.”

You reach the top of the steps and decide to fan out.

“Everyone take a room. Sweep it _carefully_. There’s a kid up here somewhere who just lost her family.”

You watch as the other three make their way toward rooms closest to the stop of the stairs before heading down the hall to the furthest bedroom. The flames haven’t infiltrated as thoroughly up here as they have downstairs but it’s hot - god _damn it_ , it’s hot - and the smoke is just as thick here as it is in the rest of the house.

You make it to the doorway of the furthest room when you hear it. A cry. A child’s cry.

You flit your flashlight’s beam around the room until it falls on the crib and there she is, a curly-haired kid coughing and crying. You rush to her and radio to your team.

“I found her! I’ve got the kid. Finish sweeping just in case and then move out. I’m getting this kid out of here.”

Distantly, you hear your team whoop and holler, but you’re more focused on the child you’re cradling to your chest, on the way she’s calming under your touch, on the way your heart is breaking for her.

/

You force your way onto the ambulance with the kid, whose name you learn is Charlotte. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, she started crying when the paramedics took her from you, so you figure she’s better off with you nearby anyway.

/

You call Laura once Charlotte - Charlie, as you’ve taken to calling her - is asleep. You sink into a chair in the corner of the private room you’d talked the chief of surgery into giving Charlie. Laura answers immediately and you can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s been waiting to hear your voice.

“Carm!” she says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you say, voice low, so as not to wake Charlie.

“Are you okay?” Laura asks.

“Yeah, I’m just at the hospital. I -”

“The _hospital_?!”

“Not for myself. Breathe, Laur.”

You hear her audibly inhale and exhale. “Sorry. I always go to worst-case scenario.”

“I know. It’s okay. I just can’t talk too loudly is all I meant. But I’m okay. The call was… it was a lot.”

“Tell me about it.” So you do. You give her the background about the family and before you’re able to say anything more, she says, “Please tell me that baby is okay.”

You smile; Laura is So Good.

“She is. Charlie’s okay. That’s why I’m here right now, actually. They’re monitoring her for the day. And, I don’t know, her whole family - her entire living family - died this morning. She has no one. But I found her in her room in that burning house, so she has me, at least, for now.”

“Carm,” she says. You hum in response. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Are you okay?” she asks again.

“Physically, yes. Tired, but I’m okay.”

“And emotionally?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. Overwhelmed, I think.”

“I can hear it in your voice.”

“So why’d you make me say it?” you laugh.

You can almost picture her shrugging when she says, “It wouldn’t be fair to assume.”

“I just,” you start, running a hand through your hair. “I _was_ her, Laura. She has no one. _No one_. Everyone who shares her blood died today. And, sure, she’s much younger than I was when it all happened to me, but…”

“But you were her.”

“I was her.” You feel tears press at your eyes and you push yourself to your feet, planning on walking it off.

“What happens to her now?” Laura asks, voice careful.

“There’s already a social worker here waiting to sort it all out. She’ll go to a foster home. If she’s like me, it’ll be foster home _s_. Plural.”

A heavy silence falls between you. You wait.

“Carm?”

“Laura.”

“What if we… we should… can we take her?”

Your breath catches.

“You’d consider that?”

“Carm, _yes_.”

You feel like you can breathe for the first time since Captain Shepherd informed you of the situation.

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I found her,” you admit.

/

The moment Laura hangs up the phone, she’s in the car and on her way to the hospital with Will. Laura doesn’t, however, make it in time for Charlie to wake up. She rouses slowly, and then all at once. Before you can think about it, you’re picking Charlie up and cradling her to your chest again. Except this time, it feels softer. It’s safer. One of her hands comes up to grip your sleeve and you’re an absolute goner.

You take her to the chair in which you’d previously been sitting and prop her up on your lap.

“Hey, kid,” you say. Charlie squints her eyes and babbles. “Yeah, I know. I know.”

Charlie reaches up and clumsily grabs at your nose and you feel your heart melt.

“Ma,” Charlie coos.

“Maybe, kid. Maybe.”


	5. New Year's Day, 2026 - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where laura and will meet charlie and already-big hearts grow three sizes

Laura finds you easily and you hear her and Will before you see them. You look up as Laura enters the room and Will is clasping her hand in his tiny one.

“Sorry it took so long. _Some_ one,” she says, nodding to your son, “wanted to walk all by himself.”

“Mama!” Will says before letting go of Laura’s hand and toddles over to you. He reaches your side and only then does he notice the tiny girl on your lap.

“Hey Willy-boy,” you say. “Are you being good for Mommy?”

He nods, eyes not leaving Charlie.

“That’s a baby,” he says, pointing to her.

“It _is_. Her name is Charlie. Do you want to meet her?”

Laura’s standing behind Will now and he must sense her presence because he turns to look up at her.

“I’d like to meet her, Mama! Come on, baby,” she says to Will. “Let’s meet Charlie.”

Laura crouches down beside the chair you’re in and Will peeks over the armrest. Charlie is sat in your lap, facing forward, and she giggles when Will’s eyes peer up at her.

You share a quick look with Laura, who’s beaming. When you look back at Charlie, she’s leaning forward, one arm outstretched toward Will, who looks anxious.

“She won’t break,” you say gently. “You can hold her hand if you want to.”

Will reaches up and takes Charlie’s small hand in his and you watch as his entire body releases tension and a soft smile appears.

“I’m Will,” he says, shaking Charlie’s hand a bit.

“Wa!” Charlie squeals.

Will turns to look up at Laura and she says, “Charlie is too little to talk as well as you do.”

“I teach her?”

Laura’s eyes get glassy and you cut in, “That would be _very_ nice of you.”

Will looks satisfied and your heart swells with pride. Just then, he yawns, so you ask, “Wanna take your nap?”

He nods, rubbing at his eyes with his tiny, clenched fists, so you turn to Laura and say, “I’ll get him settled, love. Why don’t you spend a little time with Charlie?”

Laura pushes herself to her feet and you do the same and before she takes Charlie from your arms, she kisses you, one hand threaded into your hair.

Laura takes the chair you were sitting in and, as you’re guiding Will toward the bed, you hear her say, “Hey, little girl. Aren’t you just _beautiful_?”

You lift your son up and sit him on the bed and set to taking his shoes and jacket off.

“This Charlie’s bed?” he asks, bouncing his hands on either side of his legs.

“For a little while, yes. You know how Mama helps stop fires?”

“Mama a firefighter!”

“Well Charlie got stuck in a fire today, and the doctors want to make sure she’s okay, and then she can leave.”

“She come to our house,” he says, nodding.

“I hope so,” you say, kissing his cheek. You pull back the sheets on the bet and Will crawls to the pillow and lays down.

“Carm,” Laura says behind you. You tuck him in before turning to her. “His ki-ki is in my bag.”

You retrieve his Lola Perry original sock monkey from Laura’s purse and bring it to him.

“Ki-ki,” he says sleepily, reaching out for it with one hand. Will snuggles it to his chest and quickly falls asleep and you rejoin your wife.

“Are we ready for another child?” she asks you, eyes not leaving Charlie, who has one of Laura’s fingers in her mouth.

“I feel ready,” you nod,” and honestly, I don’t know that I could part with her right now.”

“Me either,” Laura says. “It feels like she belongs with us. It’s a tragedy, what happened to her family, but if she can’t be with them, I think she should be with us.”

“Do you know how much I love you?”

Laura looks at you then, beautiful as ever, and says, “I have a _bit_ of an idea.”

You kiss her and say, “Remind me to fully explain later on.”

“I look forward to it,” she says, smiling. “So, what’s next?”

/

You leave Charlie’s room to go find the social worker you’d talked with earlier. She’s just down the hall at the nurse’s station and she rises to her feet when she sees you.

“How’s Charlotte?” she asks.

“She’s awake and happy,” you tell her. “My wife and son came to meet her. We’ve talked it over and we’re really very serious about taking her in.”

“It’s a lengthy process,” she says carefully.

“I know; I was a foster kid. I bounced from home to home to home. I don’t want that for Charlie. She’s just a kid; she shouldn’t have to go through all that.”

“Very well,” the social worker - Kate, you think her name is - says with a kind smile. “Let’s go talk with your wife.”

/

Kate sits down with you and Laura to conduct an interview. Before that, though, Laura puts Charlie down for a nap. There’s more than enough room for both her and Will in the bed, but Will still gravitates toward her in his sleep.

Laura comes back and pulls a chair beside you and takes your hand before saying, “Ask us anything.”

The interview isn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as you expect it to be, but that’s probably due to Laura’s grip on your hand and the fact that neither of you have anything to hide. Kate asks straightforward questions; things like: What are your professions? Where is your son when you’re both at work? What’s your support system like? How long have you been together? How old is your son? Do you have space in your home for another child? Do you have the _means_ to care for another child? What is your motivation for fostering and potentially adopting Charlotte?

The last question feels heaviest and Laura answers first.

“She needs a home,” she starts, shrugging. “She needs a home and she deserves a stable, happy, supportive one, which is what Carm and I have built together. We’ve been talking about having another child and meeting Charlie - it just feels right. I saw Carm holding her and our son was holding my hand and it all just _clicked_. This is what our family should look like.”

Kate looks to you and you say, “I mean, ditto, but, look, when I heard her crying in that house, I felt the same way I feel when Will cries in the middle of the night, or when he turns a corner a little too quickly, or when he falls down. I’ve been on so many calls involving children in danger that I couldn’t even begin to count them, but not one of those calls - not one of those children - have made me feel the way that Charlie made me feel today. I always have an instinct to protect - that’s my job - but this was… it was _more_. The mother in me took over and I _connected_ to this child.”

There are a few beats of silence, and then Kate says, “I need to call my supervisor, but I’m going to recommend that you take Charlie on a trial basis. We’ll need to conduct a home visit or two, as well as speak to some of your friends and colleagues, but, depending on how Charlie settles in and how everyone adjusts, I think the both of you are excellent candidates to adopt her.”

“You mean it?” Laura says, and you can tell she’s ready to cry.

“I do. You’re doing this for the right reasons; I’d be remiss to deny a child a home with people who so genuinely wants what’s best for her. Excuse me for a moment.”

Kate leaves, presumably to make her phone call, and, all the sudden, Laura is in your lap, pulling you to her by your cheeks, and is kissing you, hard and sweet.

“I love you,” she says, “ _so_ much.”

“I love _you_ ,” you say, a little breathless and a lot over-the-moon.

“I’m going to get off you now because I don’t want Kate to come back and decide we’re sex-crazed freaks and take this beautiful, incredible child away from us, but just know that I wanna jump your bones right now.”

“Cupcake,” you start, “do you have an adoption kink that I’m not aware of?”

“No,” she says, shoving your shoulder lightly as she pushes herself to her feet. “I have a ‘my wife is beautiful and passionate and loving and Good’ kink.”

/

Kate gets approval from her supervisor and a few hours later, Charlie is cleared to leave the hospital. You’re exhausted, so Laura offers to drop you and the kids - the _kids_ \- off at home and then go out and buy some of the essentials for Charlie - clothes, bottles, baby food, diapers, pacifiers, toys, and whatnot - after getting the children fed.

“Are you sure? I can come with you.”

“You’ve been awake for going on twelve hours, you haven’t eaten, you ran into and out of a burning building, and you’ve been with Charlie all day. I’m sure.”

When you all get home, you try to help her get dinner started and she physically guides you into a chair.

“I’m making you a sandwich to hold you over, and then you’re going to sleep,” Laura insists.

She raises an eyebrow then, and you know it’s her way of saying, “You don’t want to challenge me on this,” and you honestly don’t have the energy to, so you raise your hands and say, “I surrender.”

“Good, thank you,” she says before kissing you and adding, “Love you.”

You scarf down the PB&J Laura makes you and she already has Will at the table and has dug out his old high-chair for Charlie to sit in.

You finish the apple juice Laura had poured for you and she says, “Alright, kids, we’re going to let Mama rest for a while, aren’t we?”

“Mama! Sleep time,” Will says, and Charlie babbles.

“Majority rules, Carm,” Laura says, and you push yourself to your feet.

Only then do you realize how tired you actually are. You groan and stretch before dropping kisses on the tops of Will and Charlie’s heads. Laura stands up, then, and pulls you into a hug, her arms wrapped around your shoulders. You let your chin rest on her shoulder and hold her around her waist.

Your body may feel heavy with exhaustion but right now, the lightness in your chest far outweighs it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just love these kids ok


	6. December 2026 - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one with some reminiscing
> 
> [plus a visitor]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanna say a quick but deeply genuine ‘thank you’ to everyone who’s read and commented or kudos'd or bookmarked. it really and truly makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and i’m glad that this little AU of mine is bringing a little bit of happiness to you, so thank you and ily ok bye

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of watching Carmilla play with your children.

You’re also pretty sure that _every_ parent must feel that way, but there’s something, just,  _electric_ about seeing Carm chase Will around your backyard or watching both Will and Charlie tackle a dramatic Carmilla down into the snow. What’s more is that Carm has always been soft with you, but becoming a mother has caused a ripple effect in that softness and she no longer feels the need to wear her harder, more callous shell even when she’s _not_ with you and the kids.

[Most of the time, anyway.]

You’re standing at the sliding glass door that leads to the back deck just watching them, and it hits you that you’ve been lucky enough to catch these glimpses of Carm and your children for nearly an entire year now.

So often, when you come home from a long day of work, Carmilla is in the yard with Will and Charlie, and you love those few moments before they see you, realize you’re home, because that means you can just _see_ them.

On Valentine’s Day, you came home around dinnertime and found them making snowpeople - one for each of you. Charlie was bundled in a snowsuit like Randy from _A Christmas Story_ and was sitting on a snow-chair supervising while Carmilla and Will dressed the snowpeople. Will drew shaky hearts in the center of each one’s chest; you felt your own swell.

When the snow had melted and the sun decided to stay in May, you watched as Carm cleared out her garden, teaching the kids every step of the way.

 _“Charlie couldn’t have cared less and the biggest lesson Will learned was that dirt tastes awful_ ,” Carm had said later that night, laughing all the while.

In July, you watched as Charlie and Will splashed around in the tiny blow-up pool you’d insisted on buying them before joining them in soaking Carm to the bone.

By October, you were used to coming home to Charlie and Will jumping into large mountains of crunchy leaves. Even from inside the house, you could hear their laughter and Carm’s smile was bright enough to light the entire neighborhood’s jack-o-lanterns.

Now, it’s December again. It’s your _eighth_ December in this home, but it’s your first as a family of four, which makes it feel like your first all over again.

[You’re sure that if love could take a physical form, it would look like Carmilla, Will, and Charlie.]

You regret ending the moment, but you slide the door open and call out, “Time for dinner! Come warm up! There’s cocoa!”

Carm’s eyes are the first to lock with yours and you smile.

You’re home.

/

Later, the kids are playing and you’re catching Carm up on the current office gossip. The doorbell rings and Carmilla presses a kiss to your cheek before going to answer it.

You hear the door swing open, quickly followed by an excited voice saying, “Carm-sexy!”

“ _Wilson_ ,” Carmilla says in that warning tone of hers, and Kirsch responds, “Dude, come on,” but you’re pretty sure the silence that follows means she’s pulled him into a tight hug, the one she always gives Kirsch after going long periods of time without seeing him.

[You’re also certain you hear sniffling, but you can’t be sure who’s crying: Carm or Kirsch.]

The two enter the room a few moments later, Kirsch’s arm around Carmilla’s shoulders, and Will looks up from his place on the floor when he hears their footsteps.

“Uncle Kirsch!” he shouts before hopping up and barreling toward him.

Carm gets out of the way in time and Kirsch is prepared to catch Will when he launches himself at the tall fireman.

“How’s my favorite little guy?” he asks. “Is Santa going to bring you coal this year?”

“No!” Will says. “I’m good. _Super_ good.”

“I knew it!”

Kirsch puts Will down and comes to hug you warmly before saying, “Now, where’s my god-daughter?”

“There!” Will says, pointing to Charlie.

Kirsch looks around, brow furrowed, and says, “Where? I don’t see the squirt _any_ where!”

He stomps around, then, pretending not to see Charlie as she giggles or Will as he jumps up and down next to Charlie.

“The squirt’s _gone_!” He turns to Carmilla. “Where’s Charlie, Carmilla? Where is she?!”

Carm rolls her eyes but is unable to hide her smile as sinks back down on the couch next to you. You scoot into her side and she drapes her arm around your shoulders.

Kirsch drops to his knees right in front of Charlie and says, “There she is!” before tickling her and the room is filled with her high-pitched, squealing laughter and Will joins in.

Carmilla leans her forehead against your temple and it brings you back to that Thanksgiving ten entire years ago when you both gave in to what you wanted - what you _needed_ \- and she kissed you for the first time. The thought makes your breath catch and she pulls back.

“Are you okay?”

You look at her and nod, feeling tears push at your eyes.

“I just love you,” you shrug. “I love our life, I love our kids, and I’m so _happy_ , Carm.”

You kiss her, long and sweet, and rest your forehead against hers.

“Thank you,” she says, “for the life we’ve built. I love you, Laura.”

“Merry almost-Christmas,” you say, and Carm kisses you, a smile on her lips.

“Do we _really_ have to wait until Christmas Eve to give the kids their big gift?”

“ _Yes_ , Carm,” you laugh. “It’s our tradition; we can’t break it just because this year, we have arguably the most awesome gift.”

“Ugh, fine,” she groans. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you repeat, kissing her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘visitor’ will turn to ‘visitors,’ plural, in the next chapter, and you'll actually see The Holidays.


	7. December 2026 - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first half of their first xmas eve as a family of four aka i wrote more than i intended to and had to split a chapter
> 
> also known as the one where hollstein still can't keep their hands off each other.

You wake up in a quiet, empty bed, which is strange. You look at the clock on your bedside table, which reads 10:07 AM, which is even _stranger_. You don’t remember the last time you slept this late - that the kids _let_ you sleep this late - and it feels… odd. You push yourself up to a sitting position and stretch, your eyes happily falling closed in response to the energy that flows through your muscles. When you open your eyes, Carmilla is leaning against the door frame, wearing a small, soft smile.

“Mornin’,” you say, and she comes to join you on the bed.

“Sleep well?”

You nod and hum in response, reaching for her. Carm scoots toward you and then sits in your lap, her knees bracketing either side of your outstretched legs. She brushes hair from your face, then, fingers as light as feathers, before kissing you, long and deep.

“Good morning,” she says, and you pull her back into another, more heated kiss.

Your hands, previously resting on her waist, move up underneath her - _your_ \- raggedy Hufflepuff t-shirt. She shudders a little bit at your cold hands but presses further into you, breaking the kiss only to take a breath before slipping her tongue between your lips. You moan into her mouth and Carm pulls back.

“As much as - I’d _love_ to - continue this,” she says between kisses, and then she rests her forehead against yours, “my primary mission here was to inform you that the kids have a surprise for you downstairs.”

“But your _secondary_ mission,” you say, dipping your head and pressing kisses over the column of her throat, nipping at her pulse point, before continuing, “is to make love to your wife on Christmas Eve.”

“ _Laura_ ,” she says, breathless, fingers threaded into your hair, keeping you in place. “We have to - _god_ , you’re unfair - we have to go downstairs.”

You smile at how easily you can still work her up before pulling back from her and saying, “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Carm rolls her eyes and says, “Okay, lady-killer,” before moving to climb off your lap.

Your hands stay firm on her waist, though, and she turns back to you.

“You are, Carm. You’re still the most beautiful, wonderfully sexy woman I’ve ever seen.”

Her eyes go soft, the way they always do for you, and you feel your smile grow. Carm runs her thumb over your bottom lip before kissing you again, chaste but sweet.

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,  
I love you directly without problems or pride,  
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,  
Except -”

You cut her off with another kiss before laughing and saying, “Carm, baby, that was so _gay_.”

/

A few minutes later, you’re finally heading downstairs. Or, Carmilla is heading downstairs with you riding piggy-back.

“Sometimes I forget how strong you are because you’re so gentle,” you say in her ear.

“I am _not,_ ” she scoffs, but you can tell that she doesn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“Okay,” you say, pressing a kiss behind her ear.

As you get nearer to the kitchen, you hear a voice chattering away. It’s Will, telling a story about sledding down the big hill in your backyard yesterday. Charlie is humming to herself, but what catches your attention is a deeper, booming voice.

“Is that -” you say as Carmilla rounds the corner and enters the kitchen. “Dad!”

You hop from Carmilla’s back and rush to your father, who engulfs you in a hug.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he says and you squeeze him tighter.

“Papa’s here!” Will shouts.

“Papa!” Charlie echoes.

“You said you couldn’t make it until New Year’s!” you say and he looks guilty.

“Well, see, I lied,” your dad says and Carmilla cuts in.

“The lie was my idea,” she says and you turn to her. Your dad’s hands move to your shoulders and you feel so content you could burst. “He wasn’t lying at first - he really did have a shoot this week - but a few weeks ago he called but you were asleep, so I answered your phone.”

“The shoot got moved,” your dad picks up, “and Carmilla suggested I fly in for Christmas but that we surprise you.”

“I love you guys,” you say, voice thick with tears.

Carmilla moves toward you quickly and swipes a tear away with her thumb. “Hey, no. Don’t cry, please; this was supposed to be a happy thing!”

“It is!” you insist. “It’s the happiest. I just - I’m so _lucky_.”

“We’re the lucky ones, pumpkin,” your dad says as you pull Carmilla into a hug.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Carm says. “For the record, this doesn’t count as your Christmas Eve present.”

“‘Prize, Mommy!” Charlie says and Will very seriously adds, “She means _sur_ prise.”

You whirl around, then, and say, “My birthday boy!” You scoop Will up and hold him tight to you. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“I’m not a baby, Mommy; I’m _four_ now.”

“You’ll always be my baby,” you say, pressing messy kisses to his cheeks.

/

Your dad insists on making breakfast for all of you and Will insists on helping him. Kirsch comes up from the basement in the meantime and joins them. Will’s “helping” mainly consists of eating the chocolate chips meant for the pancakes, but no one says a word.

You and Carmilla read _The Jungle Book_ to Charlie for what feels like the millionth time and then play with her on the living room floor while the men cook. Charlie’s pretty swift on her feet now, and she gets the biggest kick out of running back and forth between you and Carm. Sunny runs with her, knocking into her a few times, but Charlie doesn’t lose her balance.

When she’s tired herself out for the time being, Charlie halts and says, “Sunny! Sit, Sunny.”

The dog acquiesces and Charlie moves behind him, wraps her little arms gently around his neck, and hugs him.

“‘Kay, Sunny, go!”

Sundance takes off like a bat out of hell and your eyes go wide with panic, even as Charlie’s happy laughter bounces off the walls. You look at Carmilla who’s grimacing.

“I _might_ have taught our daughter how to ride the dog.”

/

After a hearty breakfast, Will and Charlie ask to go sledding and Kirsch immediately says, “I’ll take them! You two should spend some time with Papa Hollis.”

You help get the kids bundled up while Carmilla and your dad clean up the kitchen. When Kirsch says, “Last one to the hill is a rotten egg!” the kids take off running and you laugh, watching them from the door. Carm’s low voice catches your attention and you head off to the kitchen.

You’re just about to enter when you hear her say, “Can you believe it? Ten years later and she still loves me the way I’ve always loved her.”

“I _can_ believe it. I’ve been all around the world and I’ve seen the most gorgeous places and people, but none of it holds a candle to how beautiful yours and Laura’s love is… how beautiful it’s _always been_ , really.”

“You’re a little biased, Dad,” Carm laughs and your dad joins in with her.

“That’s what happens when you have kids.”

“And rum at noon.”

“And rum at noon,” he echoes and you hear their glasses clink.

You enter then and Carm says, “Hey, sweetheart. I made you cocoa.”

“And what are you two having?”

Carm smiles, “Eggnog with just a dash of rum.”

“It might be the other way around,” Dad says, and Carm elbows him.

“Are you mad?” Carmilla asks meekly.

“Only if you don’t give me a sip. It’s Christmas Eve!”

/

Dad, Carmilla, and you move to the living room and it feels like that first Christmas the three of you spent together; you and Carm are curled up together on the couch, your dad’s in an armchair, and you’re all laughing together.

“Are Lola and LaFontaine coming in for Christmas Day still?”

You nod and Carmilla says, “They should be here around noon.”

“How’s that kid of theirs? What’s his name? Jasper? Jimmy?”

“They call him J.P.,” you say, “and he’s good. He’ll be four next spring and Perry said he’s e _lated_ to see Will and Charlie.”

“Good,” he says, nodding. “Good. Kirsch is really taking to the whole god-father thing, huh?”

“He’s an idiot,” Carmilla snorts.

“That’s Carmilla-speak for, ‘Yes, he is,’” you say.

She pinches your side and you yelp and before you know it, you’re trying to evade Carmilla’s tickle attack.

You don’t hear your father get up, but do hear his voice nearly the doorway, saying warmly, “It’s like they’re teenagers.”

/

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until Will is pulling on your sleeve.

“Mommy,” he whispers. “Are you awake?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, opening your eyes slowly. Your head is resting on Carm’s chest and her arms are around you waist. “What’s up, Will?”

“Papa says you and Mama should stop being lazy and wake up so we can have my birthday dinner,” he says innocently and you laugh.

“Okay, baby. Go in the kitchen with Papa and I’ll wake Mama up.”

He nods, scurries into the next room, and you can hear faintly hear him relaying the message to your dad.

You brace yourself on one arm and use your opposite hand to run your fingers through Carm’s hair. You scratch at the base of her neck and she all but purrs. You lean in, then, and press a soft kiss to her lips that you feel her try to return. You kiss her again, more fully, and you feel her grip on your waist tighten before her lips move against yours.

“Hey Mama,” you say, pulling away from her.

“Mmmm,” she says. “Tired.”

“I know, baby, but it’s dinnertime.”

She peeks one eye open.

“And then present-time?”

“And then present-time,” you confirm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the translation for the neruda poem i used can be found here: poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/49236
> 
> also, i have to be at my internship all day tomorrow before i go to a family new year's eve party, so the last chapter may not go up until the first of the new year. sorry!!!!! 
> 
> i hope everyone has a safe and happy new year's!! <3


	8. December 2026 - Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where the hollis-karnstein kids get a surprise

While you and Carm slept, your dad managed to make a three-course meal for you, the kids, and Kirsch. You have to pull Carm by the hand through the kitchen to the dining room and they’re all waiting for you.

“There they are!” Dad calls.

You kiss Charlie on the top of her head while Carm ruffles Will’s hair and Kirsch says, “What about me?”

In response, Carmilla smacks him on the back of the head on her way past him to her seat. Charlie giggles and you want to scold Carm, but you find yourself laughing along.

/

After no one can manage to have any more to eat, Carmilla dramatically says, “Well, I guess it’s time for bed, now, huh?”

You take a look at your watch. “You’re right, Mama,” you say, clapping your hands together. “PJ time!”

“No!” Will yells. “It’s present-time! Uncle Kirsch said!”

“Presents!” Charlie echoes.

“Oh, _present_ -time,” Carm says, smacking her hand to her forehead. “How could we forget?”

She pushes herself to her feet and scoops Will up in her arms. “We have birthday presents for Willy-boy _and_ a Christmas Eve present for both of you little rascals.”

Carm blows raspberries against his little belly and the raucous laughter that follows is infectious.

/

Will asks Charlie to help open his birthday presents; Charlie busies herself with tossing strips of wrapping paper up in the air as Will hollers every time he catches a glimpse of what the wrapping paper had been hiding, which turns out to be a stack of new comic books and his own personalized fireman helmet.

“Thanks Mommy! Thanks Mama!” Will yells and he hugs you both tight.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say. “Happy birthday!”

Carmilla kisses him and then says, “Hey, Mommy, I’m going to go get their Christmas Eve present.”

“We’ll be waiting,” you say, and Carm kisses you before she goes.

The kids giggle with excitement and when you make eye contact with your dad, you can _feel_ his pride; it makes your eyes well up. Luckily, Carm is back, a huge cardboard box in her arms, just as quickly as she left and you're able to blink away your tears.

She sets the box down in front of them and says, “Now listen, we have to be _very_ quiet and _very_ careful when we open this present, okay?”

Will nods solemnly and Charlie whispers, “‘Kay, Mama.”

“Okay,” Carm says softly, reaching for you with one hand and tapping the top of the box with the other. “Will, take one side, and Char, take the other, and lift those flaps up.”

You move to sit next to Carmilla and she takes your hand. The kids open up the top of the box and they quietly peek in. Will’s eyes snap up to yours, but Charlie’s stay trained on what’s inside the box.

Will’s eyes are tearing up when he says, “Do you mean it, Moms?”

“Mean what, Willy-boy?” Carmilla asks, a smile on her lips.

“It’s really ours?”

“He really is,” you say, looking at Carm. “Right, Mama?”

“Right,” she says, beaming at you and then you both look back at your kids.

Charlie is on her feet now and she’s reaching into the box, which means that nearly half of her body is inside it, and Will keeps her on her feet by holding onto the back of her t-shirt. She rises to her full height again and in her arms is a tiny, black kitten.

“Bag,” she says, wonder in her voice, eyes _still_ not leaving the ball of fluff.

“No, Charlie. Cat,” Will softly corrects.

Charlie shakes her head and repeats herself. “ _Bag_ ,” she says and then she looks up at you. “Bag!”

It finally clicks.

“ _Yes_ , Charlie. Just like Bagheera.”

“ _Jungle Book!_ ” she says merrily and then she lifts the kitten up a bit. “Bag!”

“Looks like the cat’s got a name,” Carmilla says, her arm falling around your shoulders.

“You hold him?” Charlie offers to Will and he takes Bagheera gently in his arms.

“We have a cat,” Will says, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Bag!” Charlie says again, running to your dad. “Papa, it’s Bag!”

He lifts up Charlie, who squeals happily, and he says, “It sure is, kiddo!”

/

Charlie, Will, and Bagheera fall asleep together on the floor of the living room. Charlie is lying on her back with Bagheera resting on her belly and Will is on his side, facing Charlie with one arm folded beneath his head. Shortly after they doze off, Sunny makes her way into the room and sniffs around at the newcomer. After a few moments, she must decide Bagheera is harmless because she curls up at Charlie and Will’s feet.

Your dad and Kirsch both retire to their respective resting places for the night but you and Carm stay where you are, just watching your little piece of heaven sleep peacefully.

* * *

 

A week later, it’s New Year’s Eve and when you wake up, Carmilla’s naked body is entwined with yours. Her eyes are already open and on you and you feel your heartbeat pick up the way it always does when Carm looks at you that way.

“Hey,” she says, and you kiss her.

“What time is it?” you ask.

She lifts her head to look over you at the clock on your bedside table.

Carm scoffs out a laugh and says, “It’s just past 5:00 am.”

“What are you doing up?” you ask, pulling her even closer to you by her waist.

“Just thinking,” Carm says.

“A _bout_ …” you prompt, running your thumb over her hipbone.

“Isn’t it strange?” she asks, after a few quiet moments.

“What?”

“All of the events that made our family more whole - every _single_ one, except for our drunk wedding - happened during the holidays. I kissed you on Thanksgiving, I met Dad on a Christmas Eve that just _happened_ to also be the first night of Hanukkah, you picked up Sunny in December, Will was born on Christmas Eve, and Charlie came to us on New Year’s Day. It’s weird, right?”

“I’d say,” you start, voice low, like you’re sharing a secret, “it’s more ‘meant to be.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't as long as i was hoping but i still cried writing it bc i love them ok. happy new year! thank you for reading!! i am very open to prompts for this verse bc i'm never going to be ready to let it go

**Author's Note:**

> i have approximately 11 million details re: this verse that i am unable to fit in these mini-fics so if you like fluff so soft it hurts, come on over to good-and-safe on tumblr dot com


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